


Smoke Free Zone

by drwhogirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, British Men of Letters, Episode: s12e17 The British Invasion, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Ketch, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mary is Not Nice, Stop making my boys the bad guys!, They're really not evil!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 20:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11905512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drwhogirl/pseuds/drwhogirl
Summary: When Ketch gets hurt on a hunt, it's up to Mick to take care of him.





	Smoke Free Zone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DementedPixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DementedPixie/gifts).



Mick knew he couldn’t shoot her, not really. So he was relieved when he heard his phone ring, giving him an excuse to lower his shaking gun and answer it. Sam and Dean started shepherding Eileen towards the Impala but stopped when they heard a clatter as Mick’s gun slipped from his hands, the colour completely drained from his face.

“Mick? What’s going on?” Sam asked. Suddenly worried that something had happened.

“Ketch and your mother are on a hunt and it’s gone wrong. We’re closest so we have to go.” Sam nodded and rushed back to the car, Mick right behind him at Sam’s request. He could see Mick wouldn’t be able to drive and knew they’d all be better off if he came with them.

Dean made what should have been a half hour drive in less than 15 minutes but by that time the tension had grown so thick it could have been cut by a knife.

They pulled up  quietly at the warehouse Mick directed them to. Sam and Dean collected 4 cutlasses and went to find where Mick and Eileen were scouting out the perimeter. They'd found no sign of life so it should have been less surprising when they entered the building there were half a dozen vampires lying dead, scattered around the room. Dean was the first to spot Mary on the other side of the large storage room with a cutlass of her own raised above her head.

“MOM!” Dean shouted causing Mary to jump and drop the cutlass earning a cry of pain from the person at her feet as it embedded itself in in their shoulder.

As they moved closer they could see what was really going on. The person at her feet was Ketch. He had what was clearly a bite taken out of his neck and there was blood covering his mouth. Mick felt like he wanted to be sick. Mary was explaining to Sam and Dean what happened. Mick wasn’t really listening but he got the basics. Mary had screwed up and the vampires had attacked Ketch. They’d obviously decided in a moment of cruel and twisted irony that it would be more fun to turn the hunter into what he hunted.

Mick didn’t really know what to say or do.  The Men of Letters had never bothered to try and find any kind of cure for vampires, once they knew how to kill them there hadn’t seemed like much point. He was only vaguely aware of Sam shouting at Mary as he knelt down beside his friend. Just being in such close proximity he could feel the heat radiating from his skin, far hotter than a human should be able to survive. But he wasn’t human anymore, Mick had to remind himself.

Sam came over and knelt next to Mick. “We think we can save him, we just need to get him back to the Bunker.”

“How? There’s no cure.”

“We have an old Campbell family recipe, it needs the blood of the vamp that turned him but we can make it work without, I think.”

“With the right spells, I think it should be possible yes. It'll have to be… wait... Campbell?” That’s when what Sam said really hit home. Mary knew how to save him. Mary knew it was possible but rather than doing the right thing and trying to help she’d been going to end Ketch’s life. If she’d still been there he would probably have killed her but Dean had sent her and Eileen back to the hotel in Ketch’s car to get their clothes and anything else they might need. Now he thought about it, it wouldn't have surprised him if that's why she was sent away.

Sam and Dean helped to move Ketch into the back of the Impala and started work on his injuries. Sam started stitching up the wound on his shoulder whilst Dean cleaned and dressed the bite on his neck. When they were finished, they moved to get in the front of the car.

Mick sat in the back of the car with Ketch, gently moving his friend's head so it was rested on his lap. He didn't even question when his left hand unerringly found itself playing with Ketch's hair whilst his right was placed over the other man's heart. The only way to reassure himself that it was still beating.

Ketch, in his delirium kept muttering things in languages that Mick couldn't even begin to understand. It wasn't until he moved onto Enochian that Mick finally realised. It was two words. The same two words over and over again in every language that Ketch knew. "Love Mick." Whilst on some level he knew it must be true he also knew this meant Ketch must have been worse than they originally feared. He'd rather die than admit to having any feelings for anyone and in his condition, had lost all control over what he said.

“Do you have any water?” Mick asked the boys in the front seat. Sam picked up the bottle from his foot well and passed it to Mick. Mick pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and poured the water onto it, ignoring the complaints from Dean about getting water all over the car. He placed the cloth on Ketch’s forehead in an attempt to bring his fever down.

It clearly had an effect because not long after, Ketch managed to find some level of coherency. “Mick… What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive for long enough to get you back to normal.”

“That’s a bit overly optimistic, even for you.”

Mick couldn’t help smiling at that. “Yeah, well Sam and Dean have a plan.”

“The Winchesters. Naturally. Because they’ve never been wrong before.”

“Hey!” Dean’s exclamation could be heard from the front seat, but Mick chose to ignore him.

“Nice to know that even on what you think is your deathbed, your sense of humour is unchanged.”

Ketch opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t get the words out because he started coughing. Both he and Mick decided to ignore the spots of blood on his hand for the moment. It wasn’t like they could do anything until they got to the bunker anyway.

“How much further?” Mick asked the Winchesters as his friend fell into a fitful sleep.

“About 20 minutes, 10 the way Dean drives.” Mick nodded, relieved they didn’t have to wait too much longer. He wasn’t completely sure how much more of this he could deal with.

When they pulled into the Bunker’s garage, Sam sent Mick to the store-room to find all the ingredients they’d need for the treatment. Sam and Dean managed to move Ketch to one of the bedrooms between them and set him up in the bed in Castiel’s room.

Mick brought all the ingredients and set them out on the desk, sitting down to study the sheet Sam had left for him. He managed to come up with several different spells and set to work on concocting the cure.

Sam had said it would take a few days for Ketch to fully recover, but whilst it would be rough he would, in fact, recover.

Mick could hear a phone ringing and on checking that it wasn’t his own, realised it must have been Ketch’s. He put it on silent rather than risking accepting the call and getting into trouble with either Doctor Hess or Ketch himself. After placing the phone on the desk, Mick turned back to see Ketch had started shivering. He went to get a pile of blankets and a book to keep him occupied whilst he kept a constant vigil for the next few days.

It wasn’t until around midnight that Ketch regained consciousness. Unfortunately, he was woken by a nightmare. In his nightmare, he’d fully turned and ended up ripping Mick’s throat out with his own teeth. His dying screams still ringing in his ears, metallic taste of blood still on his tongue. Ketch felt the relief was over him as he saw Mick asleep on the desk chair in the room. It didn’t look very comfortable and there was a book lying on the floor where it had obviously fallen from his hands. But he was there. He was there and he was alive. Ketch would never admit to anyone just how relieved that thought made him in that moment. He knew it had been a dream, of course he did. But there was always that small and persistent part of your brain that attempted to convince you otherwise.

Ketch got shakily to his feet and picked up the book, placing it carefully on the desk. He then took one of the 15 blankets off his bed and placed it lovingly over the sleeping man. Mick must have been exhausted because at the best of times he was a light sleeper and would have woken the moment he heard movement. It had been a hard day and the crash from the adrenaline had taken its toll.

When Mick woke up the next morning, he was surprised to see Ketch’s bed was empty. It didn’t take long to find him in the library. “What’re you doing up? You’re supposed to be resting.” Ketch shrugged, at least as well as he could with one good shoulder.

“Woke up. Couldn’t sleep. Came here. Here we are.” Ketch didn’t even look up from the book he was reading as he responded. Mick moved to see what he was looking at and immediately wanted to go into Mother Hen mode again.

“You know there’s tablets you can take for pain relief, right?”

“I’ve tried everything in the medicine cabinet and I’ve had two glasses of Whiskey.”

“Maybe the Winchesters have something in the storeroom.” Mick suggested. Choosing to ignore what was quite frankly a coma waiting to happen since Ketch appeared to be fine.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll do a stock check whilst I’m in there.”

 

“Dean, have you seen Ketch anywhere?” Mick asked as he walked into the garage where Dean was working on the Impala.

“I thought he was with you.” Dean didn’t even look up from where his head was stuck under the car’s bonnet.

“I haven’t seen him since he said he was going to do a stock check. But when I went to check on him, he wasn’t there.” Dean shrugged, having absolutely no clue what to suggest. Mick decided that since he’d looked everywhere inside, he’d have a look outside.

Day was turning to Dusk as Mick left the bunker, he didn’t need to go very far before he found his friend leaning against the wall with a lit cigarette between his lips.  
“So is this where you’ve been all this time?” Mick asked.

Ketch shook his head. “Went to get these.” He held up the box the cigarette had come from for Mick to see. Mick knew this was definitely not good. The nearest shop that sold that particular brand was in Lebanon which was over an hour away on foot. He couldn’t have taken a car because Dean would have seen him leave.

“I thought you’d quit.” Everyone knew Ketch smoked whilst they were in school but nobody blamed him because they all wanted to too. They often just weren’t brave enough to try and get them whilst underage.

“I did.” He held the cigarette between his fore and middle fingers as he blew out a puff of smoke. “This doesn’t count.”

“How doesn’t it count?”

Ketch sighed, putting out the cigarette on the wall beside him and shaking another from the box. “Because even when I stopped I never completely stopped. We’re in…” he paused for a moment before rethinking his wording. “We were in an incredibly stressful line of work and if I had a bad day this was the only thing that would stop me from going out there and killing something. I know I promised you and Toni that I’d stop but sometimes…” Whilst Mick noticed the change of tense he also knew now wasn't the time to discuss what was meant by that 'were'.

“Sometimes it gets too much and you need the extra support.” Mick finished for him. “Those things will kill you, you know.”

“If they think they can kill me before some creature does then I’d like to see them try.” He placed the second cigarette between his lips but made no effort to light it. Instead just stood there, flipping the zippo in his hand open and closed. Open and closed. Almost mesmerized by the action.

“Is that what this is about? Dying?”

“Give me a break Mick. I’m not scared of dying. Never have been.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Because I think that’s exactly what this is about.” Mick took a step closer. “I think that the fact that you just nearly died scares you. It scares you because since we left school you’ve let yourself believe you’re indestructible and now you realise you’re not you’re trying to… what? Speed up the process of your demise?”

“Well wouldn’t you be scared?” Ketch snapped, forgetting the cigarette and letting it fall to the ground. “Knowing that when you die your options are demon or ghost? Or even Purgatory if I'd died today. You’ll be fine because you’ve only ever killed when you had to. I… I killed so many people and I enjoyed it Mick.”

“You had no control over any of that.”

“That’s not the point. The point is that I enjoyed it and for that there’s only one direction I could be headed in.”

“Well assuming you’re right and I ended up in heaven without you.” Mick took a step closer so he was stood right in front of Ketch. “It wouldn’t be heaven if you weren’t there so they’d have to let you in.”

“Mick, if you’re just trying to make me feel better I-" He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Mick’s lips were on his. He wasn’t sure where this had come from or when it had started but he felt a sudden wave of emotion unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Not with Toni, not with Mary, not with anyone. After taking a moment for his brain to catch up, he dropped both the box and lighter to thread his hands through Mick's hair and properly kiss him back. He didn’t need them anymore. What he’d thought was a craving for nicotine was actually a craving for this, and this was one craving he’d never give up on.

“Now you’ve got another reason to quit, because I have no intention on kissing you again while you taste like an ash tray.” The look on Mick’s face made Ketch laugh and kiss him again. Neither of them saw Dean come out of the Bunker to help with the search, only to turn around and go straight back inside again. Feeling extremely uncomfortable with what he just witnessed.

“Do you want to go back inside?” Mick asked when they finally stopped for breath. Ketch took a deep breath of the clean fresh air before nodding. Just as they were beginning to head back in, Sam came out to find them.

“Ketch, your cell was ringing.” Sam passed him the still ringing phone and Ketch couldn’t help but feel a moment of dread as he saw who was calling. It was Doctor Hess.

Ketch answered the phone and was immediately bombarded with questions about what had happened with both his own hunt and Mick’s case with Dagon. Ketch gave her all the information he could, which was less than she would have liked but that couldn’t be helped.

“And what of Mary Winchester and Eileen Leahy?” Hess demanded.

Ketch wasn’t sure what made him say it but as he met Mick’s eyes he found himself saying, “Mary Winchester and Eileen Leahy are no longer of consequence.” He saw both Mick and Sam stiffen at that.

“Good work, Mr Ketch.” And she hung up without another word.

As Ketch removed the phone from his ear, Mick started almost shouting at him. “What were you thinking? When they find out you lied to them, they’re going to have your head!”

“If.” Ketch corrected him calmly.

“When.”

“If. And as for what I was thinking, I was thinking that if I didn’t lie they were going to have your head for not shooting someone who killed one of their members, whether accidentally or not.”

“We should go and tell Dean what’s going on.” Sam told them and they both followed him into the Bunker to find Dean. When they found him and explained what had just happened on the phone, Dean looked at Ketch as if he’d grown a second head.

“But why would you do that? She tried to kill you?” He couldn’t help asking.

“Believe it or not Dean, the Men of Letters aren’t all heatless savages.”

“It’s not the Men of Letters I thought were heartless savages.”

“Charming. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

They spent the rest of the evening working out a plan. They didn’t know when they’d gone from enemies to allies and eventually to friends but if you asked any of the men at the table they wouldn’t have changed the last two days for anything. Yes, it might have saved an awful lot of trouble and a huge amount of pain, but in the end, it’s shared experiences and shared torments that bring the most unlikely of people together. For better or for worse.


End file.
